


when the world turned wicked

by ryuuzaou



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Calamity Ganon, Canon-Typical Violence, LORE LORE LOREEE, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Reluctant Hero Link, Selectively Mute Link (Legend of Zelda), but first i must establish the hurt, eventual hurt/comfort, original lore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28101984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryuuzaou/pseuds/ryuuzaou
Summary: The legend says that the beast beneath the East Reservoir Lake was sealed there by the Zora King's kin and the Sword's Chosen Hero. And now, after centuries, it's stirring again.The first part, Sidon reckons, is easy enough. His father doesn't have any other kin, besides his only son. But he can't quite believe it when the knight he'd just rescued from certain death turns out to be the wielder of the Sword that seals the Darkness.If the Sword's Chosen Hero is so determined to throw himself headfirst into every battle, he's going to need all of Sidon's support. So that's what he's going to get, whether he likes it or not.
Relationships: Link/Prince Sidon
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title is from [glory by radical face](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qec03jCRqbU). u listen to that and think about link and tell me u don't wanna break down crying.
> 
> anywayz, this started as my elaborate take on the 'alternate first meetings' trope, in which sidon meets link and is actually genuinely terrified he's going to get his ass kicked, so he decides to help him fight, maybe they fall in love, yknow, bro stuff

The meeting was called at dawn, and the knight is an hour late. 

He fumbles with his uniform, trying to smooth out the wrinkles and straighten the collar of his tunic. His cap is still crooked when he enters the room, hurrying to the front so he can take up his post at the current speaker’s right hand. He adjusts his posture the way he’d been taught, staring at the back of the girl in front of him.

“—and if it’s a Blood Moon again, this will make it four consecutive nights. Our researchers say this should not be possible,” the Princess of Hyrule is saying. She stands at the head of a long table, ten seats on either side and all of them occupied. There is no tremor in her voice, nor her hands when she points at the large map she stands in front of. Only the knight now standing behind her can see that when she exhales, her shoulders shake. “However, a historian from Gerudo Town may have found a possible answer. Rotana, if you would?”

Those at the table turn to the only Gerudo among them. She rises, the legs of her chair scraping against the floor, and she clears her throat. She fiddles with the chain of her glasses as she speaks. “I am Rotana of the Gerudo, historian and archaeologist. Normally my work is focused on the Seven Great Heroines, but I was once able to meet with a Zora historian in the Domain’s library—which, compared to those of other kingdoms, is heavily lacking. When I asked why, I was told two reasons. One: It’s generally difficult to keep parchment dry in Zora’s Domain, and the humidity of summer often made the ink illegible, which I found rational, of course—”

“ _Get on with it, then,_ ” someone mumbles.

Rotana pushes her glasses up her nose anxiously. “The second reason he told me was that vast collections of their books had been ruined. Books from nearly the beginning of their Domain were beyond the point of restoration, so rather than having hundreds of years of writings, their current library only consists of about one hundred years’ worth. He told me what most of us would consider only a legend. It is due to their library that I believe that the legend he spoke of is no legend at all, but a true story of the resilience of the Zora people.” She clears her throat again. “The legend of the beast beneath the East Reservoir Lake.” 

A scholar near the far end of the table scoffs. “That’s just a Zora fairy tale. Everyone knows the Zora history is spread through oral means. The old tell the young stories, and that’s that. Just because their library is small doesn’t mean it was destroyed by some demon. It just means they don’t read, which they seem to have in common with _you—”_

“You’re dismissed,” Princess Zelda interrupts. “Be respectful when you speak or don’t speak at all. Rotana, please, continue.”

Rotana watches the scholar grumble as he leaves, and speaks again when the door closes behind him. “I suggest this: the beast beneath that Lake is real. Legend says that while the beast gathered power, the moon bled for seven days. The next week, monsters with electric power began appearing in Lanayru in great numbers. Then, at the next natural Blood Moon, the beast released the rainstorms that flooded the entire region for weeks.”

When Rotana pauses, looking toward the princess, Zelda points at the map. “This is _everyone’s_ problem. Lanayru’s waters flow through nearly every river in Hyrule, and if their rivers flood, so will the rest of Hyrule. This will ruin harvests across the land. Thousands will not make it through the winter. We cannot allow this to come to pass.”

A Sheikah woman raises her hand. “I apologize, it’s been a long time since I last heard this legend—er, this event. What was the solution? What happened?”

Rotana replies, “It’s said that a hero chosen by a mythical sword answered their call for help, and worked together with the Zora King’s child to seal the beast at the bottom of the Lake.”

Collectively, every head in the room turns toward the front. Not to Zelda, but to the knight behind her. 

He wills himself not to shrink under their gazes. The sword on his back feels like it burns. 

* * *

Link never _asked_ to be chosen by the Master Sword. Hyrule is in an era of peace. Apparently, the sword was wielded by Heroes of Time, who used it to seal away the Darkness and save Hyrule from destruction. Supposedly, the last Hero, with the help of the Goddess-chosen Princess, sealed the Darkness away for good. Hyrule could finally focus on growth with no fear of the Darkness hanging over their heads. Monsters still roam the lands, regenerating with the Blood Moon, but research is starting to show that it’s a more natural phenomenon than was previously believed. 

A day came where a traveller told the castle that the Great Deku Tree had awoken, and the current Princess decided to greet him and thank him for watching over the Legendary Sword. Link had been chosen as part of the escort group.

Within the mist of the Lost Woods, he’d broken off from the group and saw for himself just how aptly the forest was named. He followed what sounded like a voice, calling out to him, and he’d assumed it was Zelda and his team looking for him. What he’d found instead was Korok Forest. He was drawn to the sword on the stone dais, and before he understood what he was doing, the sword was already in his hands, brilliant blue light shining from the blade.

Of course, it was this exact moment that Zelda and her team arrived, and heard the Great Deku Tree say he was happy the sword had finally found its new master. 

His life changed. Link went from a forgettable face in the knights’ order to Zelda’s personal guard and right hand. His bunk in the barracks was traded for the room of a Knight Commander, his Soldier’s armor traded for the Royal Guard’s. 

His freedom traded for a life in service of the crown.

And he never asked for any of it. 

* * *

Zelda sends Link off to Zora’s Domain the same day of the meeting. He doesn’t get a team. He’s sent alone, on the Castle Town’s fastest horse, with little more than the sword on his back and the letter with the Royal Seal in his saddlebag. 

Even with the threat of a beast ahead of him, Link can’t help but feel something akin to joy as he rides away from the town’s walls. It’s been so long since he was able to ride freely. He’s disappointed he isn’t with Epona, but the horse beneath him is lean and built for speed, and the fresh air whipping his hair around his face is thrilling. If he hadn’t been given direct orders to go straight to Zora’s Domain and take no detours, he would have spent some time racing around Hyrule Field, experimenting with just how fast this horse could run with no route to follow. 

And yet, they’re both forced to focus solely on the well-travelled road ahead as the sprawling grasslands call to them both. 

Link veers east, toward Romani Plains and Orsedd Bridge. Best to avoid the temptation entirely. 

Being the Sword’s Chosen Hero certainly is lonely. 




Okay, so maybe following direct orders to the letter isn’t Link’s strong suit. To be fair, how is he supposed to just _ride past_ a huge monster encampment, complete with massive bone spires and a multi-layer structure filled with bokoblins? He’s the Sword’s Chosen Hero, isn’t it in his job description to vanquish evil wherever he sees it?

And if it _happens_ to be an outlet for his pent-up energy and irritation, it’s just a coincidence. 

He scales up the rocky outcroppings leading up to the enemy camp’s main platform. He races past the bokoblin at the bottom and up the wooden stairs toward the top of the camp. There are three main platforms, each with two bokoblins, and by the time he’s on the ramp that leads to the top of the small mountain, there are nine bokoblins on his tail, bumping into each other and screeching as they chase their prey. There’s a grassy area at the top of the mountain, where slabs of rock are leaning together like a wall, blocking his path unless he tries to climb, which will certainly make him an easy target. So he turns to face the monsters as they scramble up the mountain to surround him against the slabs. 

Adrenaline courses through his veins like there’s fire in his blood, and Link grins, big and wild. It’s been too long since he’s last felt this sort of burning rush—his body moves by muscle memory alone, dodging serrated boomerang blades and dragonbone clubs, a dance to the tune of the monsters’ shrieks of pain as his blade tears their flesh—

The Master Sword pulses. Link doesn’t notice. That is, he doesn’t notice until the hilt sears with a white-blue heat, the blade flashes, and suddenly, he’s weaponless. 

Weaponless and cornered. 

Link curses. Why did he let them send him off without any extra weapons? Why did he disobey orders and pick a fight that could have been avoided? Why did he not check the sword’s power level before throwing himself into battle? Damn it. Damn it all. 

He takes a hit to his shoulder, another to his forearm, and remembers distantly that he’d used his last fairy a week ago (turns out it’s not a great idea to try to climb to the top of the castle when it’s about to rain). This… might be it. He might just die here. Not even to something fun or noteworthy, like a lynel, or a beast beneath a lake. Just to slobbering bokoblins and their crude wood-bone weapons. 

He glances around, beginning to panic. Well, might as well try that climb. He’s made himself an easy target anyway. How much worse can it get? 

Terribly. Terribly worse, is the answer, he discovers: a bokoblin is waiting at the top of the rock, and when he clambers to his feet, the monster holds up its dragonbone bat and swings with all its weight. One of the lumps on the bat knocks the back of his skull, the brunt of it slamming across the entire length of his back, and he goes sailing off the side of the cliff. 

The ledge he lands on isn’t too far down. At least he’s away from the group. Link knows he’s broken a bone, at _least_ one, but somehow, his legs work; groaning in pain, he manages to get to his feet, holding his injured shoulder with a hand covered in the blood from the wound on his forearm. 

It is at this moment that two more bokoblins and a Blizzrobe catch sight of him. The latter begins its dance on air as the former grab their weapons. Link tries to turn his head to look over his shoulder. The hit from the bat must have been worse than he thought, because as soon as he twists his neck, his vision blacks out. 

He feels himself fall, feels wind in his hair with the speed of his descent. And then, 

_impact._

The next moment he’s aware, Link knows by the all-over aching that he must have rolled down the rest of the cliff (it’s a familiar sort of pain, as he’s tumbled down more than one cliff in his lifetime). His skin feels heavy—no, that’s his uniform, heavy and cold and soaking wet. It feels and sounds like he’s standing under a waterfall. Or maybe he’d fallen into the river, and it’s faster than he’d thought? If that’s the case, then what’s the soft thing he’s on top of? What’s the force that’s gripping his arms, his injured one more gently than the other, holding him in place?

Whose voice keeps muttering, “ _Please, Hylian, please hold on,_ ” and why does the sound of it warm him to his bones?


	2. Chapter 2

Link awakens in phases.

The first time he wakes up, he blinks open his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling—arching high, carved of polished luminous stone and silver. The stone is glowing, so it must be night. Link can hear trickling water; it smells like fresh rain. He tries to turn his head to look around, but intense pain spikes from the base of his skull. He thinks he cries out, but he doesn’t know for sure until he hears approaching footsteps, what sounds like two pairs. 

“What was that? Is he okay? Is he in pain? What can we do?” someone asks, and he recognizes the voice as the one he’d heard before he’d blacked out.

 _Wherever I am, I… must be safe,_ is his only thought before he loses consciousness once more. 




The next time his consciousness returns, he doesn’t open his eyes. He can’t—there’s what feels like a damp rag over his eyes and forehead, pleasantly cool on his skin that he belatedly realizes is absolutely burning. It wouldn’t surprise him if one of those lizal boomerangs had old poison on the blade; their fresh poison would likely have killed him by now, but old stuff still clinging to the edges just causes a few hours of extreme fever. Judging by the way the wound on his forearm feels like the source of the fire, he figures his assumption is probably correct. The fever wears off more quickly than an infection, but it’s still a bitch to fight through when it peaks.

Link groans. He does note that his body feels generally better than the last time he’d woken up, less achey. Perhaps that voice he’d heard has brought him to a healer of some sort? He can’t see, but he manages to bring shaking fingers up to his chin to sign, _Water._

To his right, there’s a soft gasp. Link hears the shift of a chair, something clinking against a table that’s likely near the bed he’s on, and then feels a presence close to his side. A gentle hand slips under his head to lift it slightly, cautious of his occipital, and the tip of a thumb holds his chin steady when the rim of a cup touches his bottom lip. Link tries to grab it for himself, but his hand shakes, and he drops his hand with a pout. 

Whoever is helping him breathes out a light laugh. When they speak, it’s that same voice he’d recognized before. “You’re quite lucky I’m the one at your side, my friend. There are very few in the Domain fluent in Hylian sign language, but I am atop the list.” 

Huh. That _is_ lucky. _Domain?_ Link asks, though without his expression, it must be hard to determine it as a question. After he finishes the water, he tries again. _Is this Zora’s Domain?_

“It is indeed! You must have been blessed with luck directly from the Goddess herself, as I was scouting the area when I saw—” The speaker breaks off. The cup taps on the surface of the table. “When I saw your fall. I fear that if you had received care any later than you did, you would have perished. Perhaps even drowned, had I not been there to take you here.” His laugh this time is more nervous than the last. “You certainly had me worried, friend. Now, is there anything else I can do for you?” 

Pain jolts up his forearm as Link lifts it, but he does so just enough to sign, _Saddle. In bag._ _Letter._

“Of your horse? As far as I am aware, it is still back near Inogo Bridge.” The chair scrapes, as it sounds like the speaker stands up. “I will fetch it myself, if it’s so important to you. I am, after all, the fastest swimmer in the Domain. No one can match my skills in the water! I’ll bring your saddlebag to you as soon as I can.” Footsteps walk away, but after a moment, they return. Link feels a light touch on his cheek, below the rag. “Ah. Your fever feels as though it’s cooled.” The pressure increases, just slightly, as if the speaker relaxes his tension. “Good. I’ll be back soon. Stay alive until then, alright, friend? I’d like to learn more about you. If you can survive injuries like that, you must be an extraordinary person.”

Link wants to reply that no, he really isn’t, it’s the sword he carries that’s extraordinary, but his hands are too heavy to lift, and he’s lulled back to sleep by those earnest words, circling through his head.

 _“You must be an extraordinary person._ ”




He processes speech before his eyes are open. 

“—of Princess Zelda. This weak little Hylian?” A scoff. “I’d heard that they’d found the Sword’s Chosen Hero, but I never imagined it’d be someone like _this._ You’re certain you found the right horse?”

Link’s ears twitch. He’s heard all that before.

“Muzu, _please,_ ” says the familiar voice. “You’ve judged him before even speaking with him.”

“So have you! Your romanticism is getting to your head again, Prince Sidon! Your father will not say it, so I must be the bearer of bad news for you: This is just a Hylian. He has no fate, no destiny that you can help further. You are a diplomat, first and foremost. You are not here to defeat some grand evil and save the world at the side of some puny Hylian. You are here to serve your people. The Zora people. If you’ll excuse my candidness, Your Royal Highness, I encourage you to get your head out of the clouds and into the water.” 

Fading footsteps. 

A sigh.

The scrape of chair legs as someone pulls it closer to the bed and sits down heavily. 

Before he opens his eyes, Link takes a moment to process what he’d heard. So the one that had saved him is the Prince of the Zora? Isn’t that the person he needs to meet with, anyway? His head is still foggy, but he seems to remember the Gerudo woman mentioning Zora royalty. Something about sharing their strength to seal away the beast? And the prince’s first encounter with his people’s supposed hero is… watching him fall off a cliff and nearly drown.

Great. 

Nowhere to go but up, at least.

Link takes a deep breath and opens his eyes. He sees that ceiling again; this time, sunlight glints off the silver. He turns his head, and this time he doesn’t scream. His mouth tastes tart, like a potion. Perhaps he’d woken enough to drink one and doesn’t remember. With the strength of his prior fever, it wouldn’t surprise him. 

“Ah, are you awake again, friend?” the voice—Sidon—says, and Link finally gets to see him. 

This isn’t his first time seeing a Zora. They’ve come to the castle in the past for diplomatic discussions or to sell rare goods. They’re always taller than him (though, so is everyone, really), but this one seems like he’d tower over even other Zora, and that’s just what Link can tell from his seated form. He watches as broad shoulders, slumping in discouragement, straighten up and back as the Zora perks up. His eyes are bright, gleaming gold, and his gaze is sharp and intense as his eyes meet Link’s. When he grins, it’s with white pointed teeth. His smile is dazzling. Link almost has to look away.

“Would I be correct in calling you Link, Chosen Hero of the Sword That Seals the Darkness?” the probably-Zora-prince asks, placing his hand on the bed. Link sees long clawed fingers beside his own, and the comparison almost makes him feel smaller than his full title. 

After a beat, Link nods. In an unspoken excuse to break away from that fierce gaze, Link looks around the room as if for his sword.

The prince seems to understand. “The Master Sword is on top of the chest at the foot of your bed. It has always been at your side, I promise you.” 

Maybe one of the past Heroes would have taken solace in that, but Link just feels what he usually does: acquiescence. Of course the Sword is by his side. He wouldn’t be worth saving if it wasn’t. 

_Thank you,_ Link signs, and realizes the wound on his forearm is freshly slathered with some kind of poultice. _How long was I asleep?_

“Not quite three days,” Sidon replies. “It’s remarkable you’re awake so soon! Such damage would keep an ordinary Hylian—goodness, they would keep _anyone_ out of commission for at least a week.” He frowns. “How are you feeling? Even if you are awake, you should still rest. You took a beating that would kill one weaker than yourself. Our healer almost declared you dead upon arrival.” 

At that, Link pushes himself up into a sitting position. Fresh pain bolts up his spine, but he grits his teeth and tries not to let it show on his face. _No. I’m fine._ His hands hover in the air as he considers what else to say, but they lower when he thinks about what that other person had told Sidon earlier, about him having no special fate or destiny. 

If only. 

_I need to meet with the king and the prince,_ Link decides on signing, pretending not to have overheard the end of the discussion that had awoken him. _I was sent by Princess Zelda._

Sidon hesitates. He looks somewhere to the left of Link’s head for a moment before making eye contact again. “Yes, the letter bearing the Royal Seal mentioned something along those lines, among other things. I…” A steely look crosses his face, something practiced, polite, smoothed over. Link recognizes it as the one he adopts when he’s in royal meetings with Zelda. “I am Sidon, the Zora Prince.” The expression shifts to one of concern. “You… I mean no disrespect, but are you really as strong a warrior among the Hylians as the letter introduces you to be?” 

Link frowns. How is that _not_ meant to be disrespectful? Maybe those feelings he’s had about being comfortable around this person were preemptive. Does he have no faith in Link at all? Though, he did defend Link to that other person, Muzu. But that could just be the prince being polite. All the royal types Link has met have had that forced civility. 

_I’ve been using a sword since I could walk,_ Link signs with a glare. _I know what I’m doing._

“I do not doubt that!” Sidon says, with an expression that looks like he does, indeed, doubt that. “It’s just… The Legend of the Beast is often told in such a way that suggests that the heroes barely managed to defeat it, and that at the time, it was thought to be a more of a suicide mission, even for the Sword’s Chosen Hero.” He glances at Link’s shoulder, then down to his forearm. “As I said, for you to survive your injuries and heal within days, that must make you stronger than a standard knight. But I fear you have entered the Domain, pride of my people, only for it to be the place you take your last steps.”

 _As long as we win, it doesn’t matter how many more steps I get to take,_ Link replies. _The Sword chose me. King Rhoam sent me to Zelda. Zelda sent me to you. I have a mission to carry out, whether you come with me or not._ He shoves the blanket off himself and swings his legs over the side of the bed. They feel shaky, but Link forces himself to stand. He wants to wince, but settles for clenching his jaw. _I need to meet the king._

He doesn’t even make it one step. His legs are weak from days of disuse, and he loses his balance as soon as he shifts his weight. As he stumbles, he does so in just the right way to land himself directly on the prince’s lap. 

So much for his impression not getting any worse.

Their bodies seem to both react before their minds—Link throws up his arms around the closest thing to catch his balance (this ‘thing’ happens to be Sidon), and Sidon grabs Link before he falls any farther. His hands feel larger than they looked on the bed, one splayed out across his back and the other gripping the curve of his waist, taking up his entire torso and holding his weight with ease. 

For a moment, they’re frozen, staring at each other with wide eyes and slack jaws. Sidon’s fingers clench a little, the tips of his claws poking at skin Link only just now realizes is bare apart from bandages. His gaze flickers down Link’s form, pupils dilating slightly, but it only lasts a second before he’s moving his hands to either side of his chest to position him back on his feet. Even then, his hands linger for a beat longer than necessary. 

“Ah, I apologize, Link. I did not intend to, er—” Sidon begins, but Link waves him off as he turns his face away. He doesn’t want Sidon to see the blush that warms his cheeks, though it probably doesn’t matter, anyway. Just another reason for Sidon to think he’s weak. That’s all that was. Sidon caught him because he’d expected Link to fall. Link’s skin is hot because he’s angry, not because of the way those hands felt holding him steady. Not because of the way he wants to feel it again.

Instead, Link makes his way over to the chest with his sword, subtly leaning against the bed for support. He imagines that piercing gaze burning into his back, can nearly _feel_ it, and he knows that the show of weakness doesn’t go unnoticed. 

Placing a hand on his sword reminds him of who he is. Link is supposed to be the strongest soldier at King Rhoam and Princess Zelda’s disposal. He is not supposed to show weakness. He is not supposed to show that he can be hurt. He is supposed to be invincible, a shining light for people to cling to—never stopping for anything, he’ll be there to defend the people of Hyrule until his last breath, until the Master Sword falls out of his hands. He is an icon. He is a hero.

He is a tool.

Link blinks tightly, trying to dispel his thoughts so he can prompt his body into motion. He moves the sword so he can open the chest, within which he finds his uniform, folded and dried. As he begins to dress, he hears Sidon clear his throat weakly behind him, which Link ignores. His uniform is definitely more ragged than it was when he’d left Hyrule Castle; as much as the tailor boasted to him about the lightweight fabric, it didn’t exactly hold up well to tumbling down a cliff and landing in a river. 

One of his gloves has a long tear up one side, where the poisoned lizal boomerang had sliced through. When he picks it up, he scoffs, tossing both of the gloves on the bed. What’s the point of padding the leather at all if it doesn’t even hold up to an attack? He really needs something more durable now that his wardrobe is unsupervised. What he wouldn’t give for his old metal vambraces. They were hard to sign around, but at least they could take a hit. 

Still, it’s nice to have an excuse not to wear those gloves. The leather made them stiff, and it was hard to properly sign with them on. Not that it mattered—no one in the castle seemed to care about what he had to say, as long as he followed Princess Zelda everywhere she went—but it still irritated him, like someone putting a hand over his mouth. Speech was doable, but unpleasant, and it was easier to just avoid it. He flexes his fingers, half-marvelling at the lines on his palm he never gets to see, then shakes out his hands as he bounces on his toes. It’s good to be moving again. Link hates feeling stagnant. 

_Take me to the king, Prince Sidon,_ Link finally turns to sign, once he knows he has his expression under control in a firm glare. _I’ve wasted enough time already._

Sidon huffs. “Your recovery is no wasted time,” he insists. “You need rest, too. Please, friend, take a few more days to heal. 

“You cannot spend every waking second fighting.”

Link has started walking toward the door, but at Sidon’s words, he whirls on his heel and stomps back over to where the prince is sitting, turned to face him. He crowds into Sidon’s space and stabs a finger into his chest. Link prefers signing over speaking—he’s always had trouble finding the right words—but there’s no hesitation this time. 

“ _Watch me_ ,” Link growls, and then storms out of the room, leaving that piercing gaze behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [sprinkles in a little early angst from two feet above like a fancy chef seasoning their fancy dish]

**Author's Note:**

> let it be known i almost started this fic by quoting the intro to neopets: the darkest faerie. almost. 
> 
> hmu on [twitter](https://twitter.com/sickvaeolus) im luv friends


End file.
